A Court of Hope and Truth
by ulla65515
Summary: A court of Mist and Fury from Rhysand's POV
1. Chapter 1

_My Mate_

I slammed into the railing of my private residence atop the Mountain. It had been 50 years since I had laid eyes on my Court, but I didn't pause to take it in.

 _Mate_

The word rang in my ears— flooded through my blood. I stumbled through the opening of the estate trying to catch my breath only to be smothered by a warm, female body.

"Rhys—oh Rhys" Mor mumbled against my shoulder. After a moment, she leaned back and, with tears glistening on her cheeks, punched me squarely in the jaw. "What do you have to say for yourself you selfish bastard" she demanded, hurt and anger replacing the tears in her eyes.

"She...she's my mate…" I trembled, the words unhinging me completely.

"...Rhys?"

Mor's face morphed from rage into concern.

"She….she was a human...she lived beyond the wall—practically a child"

"Your mate?" Mor asked, bewildered.

I nodded, my head spinning wildly.

"What...what do you mean she _was_ human? She asked softly, assuming the worst.

I slid into an armchair—my legs shaking too much to stand for much longer—and told Mor of how the High Lord of Spring crossed the wall and brought her back. Brought her back and wooed her and made her love him. for

I told her, voice quivering, how I went to Spring on Calanmai. How I met the most beautiful thing i'd ever seen—so fragile and human but with no fear in her eyes as she beheld me.

I explained how Feyre came running Under the Mountain to save her beloved High Lord.

When Mor blanched at that apparent suicide mission, I told her of Feyre's courage and strength and her eventual victory.

"It wasn't until her...her neck snapped… that I realized what she was to me" I croaked, unable to stop the tears streaming down my face.

Mor stood paralyzed, listening in horror.

"Your Mate", she whispered.

I nodded solemnly. "After we made her immortal and brought her back, I brought her to me before I left...to say goodbye. Making her fae must have solidified the bond because it hit me so strongly...and I knew I couldn't take her from Tamlin...so winnowed back here as fast as I could and…"

The words left me and I closed my eyes.

After a long, tense silence, I felt her hand on my shoulder.

"I'm so sorry Rhys" she sighed. "I'm so... so sorry".

 **Shout out to SpellCleaver for their great suggestion on how to improve this chapter! Please follow their example by reviewing and leaving your own suggestions. Thanks for reading!**


	2. Chapter 2

"The Rainbow has suffered some with no imports available for supplies but…"

Cassian prattled on about the state of our home for the past 50 years, eyeing me wearily. Two weeks since I had come back and he was still pissed at me for putting myself in danger and confining them to safety.

"It may have to suffer for a bit longer until—"

 _He pounded into me over and over- as if he could push out the nightmares that invaded my body through sheer force._ A tan, golden haired Tamlin had his face contorted in pleasure as he—"

I jerked away from the sudden influx of images, slamming my fist on the table in front of me.

"Rhys?!" Cassian demanded, startled by my sudden outburst.

I pushed my chair back and stood hastily, trying to avoid the second stream of consciousness invading my own.

"I'm fine, Cassian" I mumbled, failing to come up with an excuse for my alarming behavior.

My general opened his mouth to speak, but I turned away, leaving before he could question me further.

Fae males are extremely territorial by nature—especially when it comes to their females. Seeing my mate underneath a rival male caused my blood to almost literally boil.

As the months passed, I was receiving more and more flashes of the spring court seen through her desparing and guilt ridden mind. I was relieved when nighttime came to give me a reprieve from my own despair. I still suffered through intense nightmares reliving all I had done Under the Mountain, but at least the nightmares were my own.

 _There was blood everywhere._

 _It was an effort to keep a grip on the dagger as my blood-soaked hand trembled. As I fractured bit by bit while the sprawled corpse of the High Fae youth cooled on the marble floor._

 _I couldn't let go of the blade, couldn't move from my place before him._

" _Good," Amarantha purred from her throne. "Again."_

I sat up in bed, gasping. So Amarantha haunted Feyre in her dreams too. I massaged my aching temples. It pained me to see her in such anguish. My cold immortal heart wept for her fragile, human one.

As I laid down again to attempt some semblance of a full night's sleep another flash of the spring court breached my mind. Feyre—braced over a toilet—retching her guts up while her High Lord slept soundly in the bed.

I snarled in fury. I knew his fae ears could hear her—his _love_ —deteriorating on the floor of their bathroom. He sat on his ass when she was sacrificing her soul Under The Mountain to save him, and he was sitting on his ass now, as the consequences of her sacrifice were destroying her slowly.

I slipped out of bed knowing I would be unable to sleep with this fury in my veins. I unfurled my wings—the muscles in my back still sore after 50 years of unuse. I stalked to the balcony and breathed in the fresh, sweet mountain air. Pushing away the bittersweet memories of my mother that resurfaced whenever I flew, I leapt off the balcony, soaring through the air with one mighty stroke of my Illyrian wings.

Freedom—that's what flying was. Freedom from the confines of the ground...from the nightmares that plagued me there.


	3. Chapter 3

"You'd think a recently liberated High Lord who was away from his city for 50 years would—I don't know— go out and enjoy it instead of moping around and doing busy work"

"Yes because repairing relations with the other Solar courts isn't necessary at all. Just something I like to do in my free time—like reading a book or tending to the garden" I grumbled to Mor, who was rummaging through Armen's stash of jewelry for something to wear to Rita's.

"We have a garden?" was all she replied, sensing my acidic mood.

"You know Armen will kill you if she finds anything missing" Azriel reminded her softly, hovering by her side. I sighed internally. The moment I saw them interact after returning I knew that nothing had changed between them in the 50 years I was absent. My brother still tracked my cousin's every movement with his shadowed, hazel eyes.

"Az will you help me with this?" Mor asked, holding up an intricate necklace and sweeping her hair to one side.

"Do it yourself", I said, leading him to the other room, "I need to debrief him". Though it was more to spare him from that uncomfortable interaction (and to spare myself from having to witness it), I was desperate to hear what news he brought from the other courts. Well one in particular.

"They're starting to rebuild the villages and beginning to hunt down the last of Amarantha's beasts" he informed me softly. Whenever he was focused like this the shadows around him seemed to intensify.

I nodded, though that wasn't what I was listening for.

As if sensing my impatience, he went on.

"I also heard news that Tamlin had proposed to Feyre Cursebreaker"

I stopped breathing.

"They are set to be married in 2 weeks"

So that's what those swatches of white linen and green tapestry I had seen floating through Feyre's mind had been. The tenor of her thoughts had been so unhappy and distressed I hadn't considered that they could be...

 _Married. My Mate is getting married to someone else._

Fighting to control the primal rage seeping through my system, I asked Az if there was any way we could help with the Summer Court's rebuilding efforts.

Today was the day. Today was the day my mate will take a vow of love and commitment to another Male.

"Ready to go Rhys?" Cassian asked, slapping me hard on the back.

I had asked him to get drinks with me at Rita's today knowing the only way I would be able to get through this was if my veins were filled with alcohol.

"You're paying this time" I told him as we headed down the streets of Velaris.

"Maybe I could if you raised my salary a bit you cheap bastard" he replied, elbowing me in the shoulder. I could see the concern in his eyes. He could tell I was on edge but couldn't figure out what was setting me off.

Rolling my eyes at him, I slowed my pace and looked around my city. I had been back for months and I still couldn't stop staring at my home—where children laughed and people rejoiced free from confinement and cruelty. This place I had helped protect was the only thing worthy I had done. The only thing stopping the gods from erasing my sullied spirit from this earth.

 _I was a murderer and a liar._

It took me a minute to realize that that thought had not come from me.

 _So many eyes, too many eyes, pressed on me, witnesses to every crime I'd committed, every humiliation—_

 _I don't know why I'd even bothered to wear gloves, why I'd let Ianthe convince me._

 _The fading sun was too hot, the garden too hedged in. As inescapable as the vow I was about to make, binding me to him forever, shackling him to my broken and weary soul. The thing inside me was roiling now, my body shaking with the building force of it as it hunted for a way out—_

 _Forever—I would never get better, never get free of myself, of that dungeon where I'd spent three months—_

" _Feyre," Tamlin said, his hand steady as he continued to reach for mine. The sun sank past the lip of the western garden wall; shadows pooled, chilling the air._

 _If I turned away, they'd start talking, but I couldn't make the last few steps, couldn't, couldn't, couldn't—_

 _I was going to fall apart, right there, right then—and they'd see precisely how ruined I was._

 _Help me, help me, help me, I begged someone, anyone. Save me—please, save me. Get me out. End this._

I stopped dead in my tracks.

"Rhys? Rhys what happened what's wrong?"

Cassian's anxious voice was diluted by the roaring in my ears.

 _Let her hate me,_ I thought as I mustered my resolve and winnowed directly into my enemies court.


	4. Chapter 4

The nauseatingly sweet scent of lilacs and sunshine hit me as I materialized in what looked like a 6 year old child's fantasy wedding. There were flowers adorning every possible surface—even the grass was scattered with white and red rose petals making a path to the altar. Hundreds of Spring Court members surrounded the white shrine, where Tamlin—dressed in a tunic of green and gold—stood beckoning for Feyre to join him.

 _Feyre_

I barely registered the guests' collective gasps of horror as I took her in.

"Hello, Feyre darling", I drawled in an attempt to mask my panic.

Her lovely face shifted from surprise to horror as she turned to face me.

I looked to Tamlin and his emissary. Their sentries were preparing to draw their swords, but a simple mental command stopped them from bothering to try.

"What a pretty little wedding" I said, hiding my clenched fists in my pockets.

I dared to look at her again. She was wearing a ridiculous, fluffy white dress with matching white gloves.

To hide the tattoo I gave her, I realized, clicking my tongue.

"Get the hell out," growled Tamlin, stalking toward us. Claws ripped from his knuckles.

I clicked my tongue again. "Oh, I don't think so. Not when I need to call in my bargain with Feyre darling."

Not only was Feyre's mind completely unguarded, but she was practically screaming her thoughts at me.

 _No—no, not now._

"You try to break the bargain, and you know what will happen," I went on chuckling a bit at the crowd still falling over themselves to get away from me. I jerked my chin toward my mate. "I gave you three months of freedom. You could at least look happy to see me".

It devastated me that the cruel persona I was forced to adopt to save my people was the reason she would never be happy to see me. Hell she was literally shaking too badly to even say anything. She must have been able to see the self hatred in my eyes.

Struggling to keep my face void my face of emotion, I faced Tamlin once again. "I'll be taking her now".

"Don't you dare," Tamlin snarled.

"Was I interrupting? I thought it was over." I smiled knowingly at Feyre, unable to resist showing her that I knew she was about to refuse him. "At least, Feyre seemed to think so."

Tamlin snarled, "Let us finish the ceremony—"

I noted Ianthe's sudden absence—the cowerding witch. "Your High Priestess," I Said, "seems to think it's over, too."

Tamlin stiffened as he looked over a shoulder to find the altar empty. When he faced me again, the claws had eased halfway back into his hands. "Rhysand—"

"I'm in no mood to bargain," I said, thoroughly fed up with him, "even though I could work it to my advantage, I'm sure." I put my hand on Feyre's elbow, the contact jarring me more than I let show. "Let's go."

She didn't move.

"Tamlin," she breathed.

Tamlin took a single step toward us. "Name your price."

"Don't bother," I crooned, linking elbows with Feyre.

 _He'd take me back to the Night Court, the place Amarantha had supposedly modeled Under the Mountain after, full of depravity and torture and death—_

"Tamlin, please."

"Such dramatics," I said, responding to what she was thinking more than what she said.

But Tamlin didn't move—and those claws were wholly replaced by smooth skin. He fixed his gaze on me, his lips pulling back in a snarl. "If you hurt her—"

"I know, I know," I drawled. "I'll return her in a week."

I slipped a hand around her slim waist, pressing her into my side and whispering, "Hold on."

I could hear her hate for me as she clung to my side. Then the darkness vanished.

"Welcome to the Night Court," was all I could say.


	5. Chapter 5

I watched her take in her surroundings—heard her reluctant awe.

"This is my private residence," I told her, attempting to be casual.

She scanned me with those cunning, calculating eyes. I didn't need to read her thoughts to see the anger boiling in her eyes.

"How dare you—" she started fiercely.

I snorted, fondly remembering her short temper. "I certainly missed that look on your face...you're welcome, you know"

"For what?" she asked, staring at me with those wide, blue-gray eyes.

"For saving you when asked."

She stiffened. "I didn't ask for anything."

I looked pointedly at her left hand before grabbing hold of it and ripping her glove off.

"I heard you begging someone, anyone, to rescue you, to get you out. I heard you say no."

"I didn't say anything."

I turned her bare hand over—the fingers thin and long like an artists'—, and examined the eye i'd tattooed. "I heard it loud and clear."

She wrenched my hand away as if she was burned by my touch. "Take me back. Now. I didn't want to be stolen away."

"What better time to take you here? Maybe Tamlin didn't notice you were about to reject him in front of his entire court—maybe you can now simply blame it on me." I replied, shrugging.

"You're a bastard. You made it clear enough that I had … reservations."

I fought to hide my smile. "Such gratitude, as always."

"What do you want from me?" she asked, sounding tired.

"Want? I want you to say thank you, first of all. Then I want you to take off that hideous dress. You look … You look exactly like the doe-eyed damsel he and that simpering priestess want you to be."

"You don't know anything about me. Or us." she said, though I could hear in her thoughts that a part of her agreed with me.

"Does Tamlin? Does he ever ask you why you hurl your guts up every night, or why you can't go into certain rooms or see certain colors?" I asked, the rage starting to show itself.

"Get the hell out of my head." She said, horrified.

Ha. "Likewise." I replied, lashing out in frustration. "You think I enjoy being awoken every night by visions of you puking? You send everything right down that bond, and I don't appreciate having a front-row seat when I'm trying to sleep."

"Prick."

I couldn't help but chuckle. She even adresses me like the rest of my family members.

"As for what else I want from you … " I gestured to the house behind us. "I'll tell you tomorrow at breakfast. For now, clean yourself up. Rest." I couldn't hide the rage in my eyes as I once again looked at that disgusting dress. "Take the stairs on the right, one level down. Your room is the first door."

"Not a dungeon cell?" She asked, sounding sincerely worried.

That she thought he would truly imprison her...after all she'd been through..

"You are not a prisoner, Feyre. You made a bargain, and I am calling it in. You will be my guest here, with the privileges of a member of my household. None of my subjects are going to touch you, hurt you, or so much as think ill of you here."

"And where might those subjects be?"

"Some dwell here—in the mountain beneath us." I told her, gauging her reaction. "They're forbidden to set foot in this residence. They know they'd be signing their death warrant."

I could smell her terror.

"Amarantha wasn't very creative. My court beneath this mountain has long been feared, and she chose to replicate it by violating the space of Prythian's sacred mountain. So, yes: there's a court beneath this mountain—the court your Tamlin now expects me to be subjecting you to. I preside over it every now and then, but it mostly rules itself."

"When—when are you taking me there?"

 _I'd beg him—beg him not to take me. I didn't care how pathetic it made me. I'd lost any sort of qualms about what lines I'd cross to survive._

As if i'd think she was pathetic...when I had crossed the most distasteful lines to survive Amarantha.

"I'm not. This is my home, and the court beneath it is my … occupation, as you mortals call it. I do not like for the two to overlap very often."

Her brows rose slightly. " 'You mortals'?"

Her heart was mortal as ever.

"Should I consider you something different?" I asked, amused by her indignation.

"And the other denizens of your court?" she asked, refusing to play along.

"Scattered throughout, dwelling as they wish. Just as you are now free to roam where you wish."

"I wish to roam home."

I laughed, unable to resist taunting her. "I'm willing to accept your thanks at any time, you know".

Something hard and small slammed into the back of my head.

I spun around to face her, touching my head where a bruise would definitely form.

Anger flared in my bones.

"I dare you." I snarled at her.

True to form, she took of her other shoe and flung it towards me. I snatched it up inches from my face, and dissolved it to dust.

It had been a long time since anything had surprised me...but that shoe…

I studied her carefully— that level of strength was not normal for regular high fae.

"Interesting," I murmured, turning away before she decided to throw something sharper.


	6. Chapter 6

"So, that went well", Mor commented, noting the anger still lingering on my face. _Of course_ she was listening to the entire exchange and caught me in the other room.

I snarled, not in the mood.

"I've never seen anyone get under your skin that fast...not even me or cassian," she wondered aloud, more to herself than me.

"Well she _is_ my equal. Apparently that means she'll hate me as equally as I love her," I said bitterly.

"Rhys…," she started wearily.

"Don't bother Mor—"

"No. Rhys you need to tell her. Tell her that she's your mate. She's only recently fae she won't be able to feel it herself yet, but if you tell her—"

"I can't tell her! You don't understand," I burst, more angry at the universe than at my Third. "She's so broken, Mor..she's still trying to figure out who she is. She's so distraught from the guilt of what she had to do Under the Mountain that its overshadowing whatever she's trying to find in herself. I can't drop this bomb on her, telling her who to love and who she belongs to—I can't put her in another prison."

"I doubt loving you would be prison," Mor interjected.

"Pressuring her into loving me would be the same thing. And you're forgetting a certain golden haired High Lord that she happens to be in love with," I reminded her.

She scoffed. "That prissy little Male with his rules and his traditions—bah anyone would get sick of him eventually."

Smiling reluctantly, I remembered why I had missed my cousin so much down in that mountain.

I listened to the trickle of bathwater and the soft pad of her feet coming from her room up the stairs as I waited patiently for her at the breakfast table.

When the table started to shake I realized I had been bouncing my leg up and down unconsciously, hitting the edge of the table.

 _Get a grip, Rhysand. You've fought in wars and faced death a thousand times, and here you are nervous about breakfast with a girl. What a mighty High Lord._

Becoming bored of the sound of my own pathetic thoughts, I reached for the bond between us and pulled, summoning her like I did the day after she died. I chuckled, guessing her indignation at being summoned.

 _Stupid, insufferable prick summoning me like it's some servant's bell_

I laughed softly, looking away towards the horizon to hide my smile as her curses became louder and more colorful as she descended the staircase and made to join me at the table.

"I'm not a dog to be summoned," she said by way of greeting.

I looked over my shoulder and studied her.

She was wearing Night Court attire—loose, billowing high-waisted peach pants that gathered at the ankles and a matching top that hung just to her navel, revealing a sliver of skin as she walked reluctantly towards me and took a seat.

The sight of her wearing my court's clothes gave me no small amount of primal male satisfaction. Not just from the exotic, feminine beauty they brought out in her but from the small (and most likely reluctant) amount of trust she had to place in me to wear them. However as I noted her ribs visible beneath the gossamer shirt and the looseness of the waistband of the pants I frowned. Did her beloved High Lord not notice his already slender fiancee losing weight?

"'I didn't want you to get lost," I replied at last.

"I thought it'd always be dark here," she told me, eyeing the pot of tea steaming in the middle of the table.

"We're one of the three Solar Courts. Our nights are far more beautiful, and our sunsets and dawns are exquisite, but we do adhere to the laws of nature."

"And do the other courts choose not to?"

"The nature of the Seasonal Courts," I said, "is linked to their High Lords, whose magic and will keeps them in eternal spring, or winter, or fall, or summer. It has always been like that—some sort of strange stagnation. But the Solar Courts—Day, Dawn, and Night—are of a more … symbolic nature. We might be powerful, but even we cannot alter the sun's path or strength. Tea?"

She splashed some milk in the tea, staring at the liquid. "Why is it so warm in here, when winter is in full blast out there?"

"Magic."

"Obviously,"she replied shortly "But why?"

I liked that she was no nonsense. She reminded me of my mother when I'd said something stupid as child.

"You heat a house in the winter—why shouldn't I heat this place as well? I'll admit I don't know why my predecessors built a palace fit for the Summer Court in the middle of a mountain range that's mildly warm at best, but who am I to question?"

I watched as she scooped some fruit onto her plate. Her slender arms had become thin, and her fingers wrapped around the spoon had become wan. "You've lost weight," I said quietly, knowing she wouldn't like me ordering to eat more.

"You're prone to digging through my head whenever you please," she said, stabbing a piece of melon with her fork. "I don't see why you're surprised by it."

I put the mask in place, smiling to hide the worry that I'm sure was unwelcome."Only occasionally will I do that. And I can't help it if you send things down the bond."

"How does it work—this bond that allows you to see into my head?" she asked reluctantly.

"Think of the bargain's bond as a bridge between us—and at either end is a door to our respective minds. A shield. My innate talents allow me to slip through the mental shields of anyone I wish, with or without that bridge—unless they're very, very strong, or have trained extensively to keep those shields tight. As a human, the gates to your mind were flung open for me to stroll through. As Fae … " I shrugged. "Sometimes, you unwittingly have a shield up—sometimes, when emotion seems to be running strong, that shield vanishes. And sometimes, when those shields are open, you might as well be standing at the gates to your mind, shouting your thoughts across the bridge to me. Sometimes I hear them; sometimes I don't."

She scowled, her soft, bow shaped mouth turning down into a pout. "And how often do you just rifle through my mind when my shields are down?".

The mask fell away. She thought I would just invade her mind for entertainment...that I would violate her more than she's already been violated if I didn't have to.

"When I can't tell if your nightmares are real threats or imagined. When you're about to be married and you silently beg anyone to help you. Only when you drop your mental shields and unknowingly blast those things down the bridge. And to answer your question before you ask, yes. Even with your shields up, I could get through them if I wished. You could train, though—learn how to shield against someone like me, even with the bond bridging our minds and my own abilities."

She ignored the offer, true to form. "What do you want with me? You said you'd tell me here. So tell me."

Remembering the trial where it had almost killed her, and knowing it would be essential for what I needed her to do I replied, "For this week? I want you to learn how to read."


	7. Chapter 7

"No, thank you," She said, gripping her fork so tightly she was probably trying not to throw it at my head.

The thought made me chuckle despite myself.

"You're going to be a High Lord's wife," I said. "You'll be expected to maintain your own correspondences, perhaps even give a speech or two. And the Cauldron knows what else he and Ianthe will deem appropriate for you. Make menus for dinner parties, write thank-you letters for all those wedding gifts, embroider sweet phrases on pillows … It's a necessary skill. And, you know what? Why don't we throw in shielding while we're at it. Reading and shielding—fortunately, you can practice them together."

"They are both necessary skills," I said through my teeth, "but you are not going to teach me."

I scoffed internally. "What else are you going to do with yourself? Paint? How's that going these days, Feyre?"

"What the hell does it even matter to you?"

"It serves various purposes of mine, of course."

"What. Purposes."

"You'll have to agree to work with me to find out, I'm afraid." Withholding information was like second nature to me— usually—but for some reason it felt odd to not be able to share it with her.

A glint of metal in her hands caught my attention. She had folded her fork into a tangle of metal.

There was that unnatural strength I saw last night. Seemingly brought out whenever she was angry—usually around me. Again the thought made me chuckle. "Interesting."

"You said that last night."

"Am I not allowed to say it twice?"

"That's not what I was implying and you know it."

I looked over her again. There was something inside of her...something she was not born with but made with. I could almost see the extra power coursing through her veins. My own power called to it.

"Has anyone ever told you that you're rather strong for a High Fae?"

"Am I?"

"I'll take that as a no. Have you tested yourself against anyone?"

"Why would I?"

 _I'm enough of a wreck as it was._

"Because you were resurrected and reborn by the combined powers of the seven High Lords. If I were you, I'd be curious to see if anything else transferred to me during that process," I told her honestly.

"Nothing else transferred to me."

"It'd just be rather … interesting," I smirked at the word, "if it did."

"It didn't, and I'm not going to learn to read or shield with you."

Beneath the mask of bravado I felt hurt. She hated me that much.

"Why? From spite? I thought you and I got past that Under the Mountain."

"Don't get me started on what you did to me Under the Mountain."

I went still.

 _What I did to her Under the Mountain?_ I'll admit I had to act like a prick but surely she saw it was for her—to save her—to make sure that Amarantha wouldn't torment her if she thought I was doing it for her. She wouldn't dare think that I _enjoyed_ doing what I did to _SAVE_ her while her own High Lord sat idly by and—

I could feel myself losing control— the fury I kept buried underneath the ice starting to thaw its way through. I could feel my chest start to move, faster and faster as I fought to control the rage. I would not lash out at her—never. _I must control my temper_ , I chanted to myself.

I opened my mouth, leaning forward, and then stopped. That familiar smell of citrus and cinnamon had entered the tension-filled air, and I knew my cousin had come to my rescue. Seeing what was brewing in my eyes, she saved me from saying something i'd regret. I relaxed my features and slid the mask back into place, the lazy grin returning. "We have company. We'll discuss this later."

No, we won't." she started to object, but quick, light footsteps sounded down the hall, and then Mor appeared.

"Hello, hello," she chirped, giving Feyre her patented dazzling smile.

I resisted the urge to roll my eyes.

"Feyre," I said smoothly, "meet my cousin, Morrigan. Mor, meet the lovely, charming, and open-minded Feyre."

Mor strode toward her. "I've heard so much about you," she said, and Feyre got to her feet jutting out her hand.

Mor—of course— ignored it and grabbed my mate into a bone-crushing hug, grinning fiendishly. "You look like you were getting under Rhys's skin," she said, strutting to her seat between us. "Good thing I came along. Though I'd enjoy seeing Rhys's balls nailed to the wall."

I glared at her incredulously.

"It's—nice to meet you."

"Liar," Mor said, pouring herself some tea and loading her plate. "You want nothing to do with us, do you? And wicked Rhys is making you sit here."

Oh we will have words after this...

"You're … perky today, Mor," I said, choosing to use a kinder word that what I was thinking.

Mor's "innocent" eyes lifted to meet mine. "Forgive me for being excited about having company for once."

"You could be attending your own duties," I said testily. Why I chose to appoint such an _aggravating_ Third I will never know.

"I needed a break, and you told me to come here whenever I liked, so what better time than now, when you brought my new friend to finally meet me?"

"You two look nothing alike," Feyre said at last after looking at Mor and I—undoubtedly calculating the nature of our relationship.

"Mor is my cousin in the loosest definition," I said as Mor grinned at me, devouring slices of tomato and pale cheese. "But we were raised together. She's my only surviving family."

"And as my only remaining relative," I went on, "Mor believes she is entitled to breeze in and out of my life as she sees fit."

"So grumpy this morning," Mor said, plopping two muffins onto her plate.

Before I could remind her how grumpy I could really be, Feyre said "I didn't see you Under the Mountain". I held my breath.

"Oh, I wasn't there," Mor replied. "I was in—"

 _No. Not yet._

"Enough, Mor," I said, hoping my tone was enough to tell her I was serious.

I rose from the table hastily before Feyre could read too much into the interaction. "Mor will be here for the rest of the week, but by all means, do not feel that you have to oblige her with your presence."

Mor stuck out her tongue at me, the child. I rolled my eyes.

I examined her plate. I would never, ever order her to do anything…. but I would always make sure she had all that she wanted. "Did you eat enough?"

She nodded. Though my male instincts were roaring at me that she hadn't had enough at all, all I replied with was, "Good. Then let's first lesson awaits."

Mor—who I knew was analyzing my every word behind her facade of nonchalance— said, "If he pisses you off, Feyre, feel free to shove him over the rail of the nearest balcony."

I gave my cousin a smooth, filthy gesture before striding down the hall.


	8. Chapter 8

**Hi! Thanks for reading and please review if you can. Should I follow every scene from ACOMAF or only write the major ones? Thanks!**

I listened to her soft footsteps as she followed after me.

I had trained many high Fae soldiers to fight and even taught some Illyrian children how to fly, but apart from helping Cassian with his lessons when we were learning together, I had never helped anyone learn to read or write. I figured we'd start at the beginning then.

"I know my alphabet," She said sharply as I laid a piece of paper in front of her. "I'm not that stupid."

As if I could call a woman who found a way to trap the Middengard Wyrm with the bones of it's own victims stupid.

"I didn't say you were stupid," I told her. "I'm just trying to determine where we should begin—since you've refused to tell me a thing about how much you know."

"Can't you hire a tutor?"

I lifted a brow. Did her reluctance only stem from her hatred of me?

"Is it that hard for you to even try in front of me?"

"You're a High Lord—don't you have better things to do?"

 _There's nothing more important than you._

"Of course. But none as enjoyable as seeing you squirm."

"You're a real bastard, you know that?"

I laughed, truly pleased that my mate swore like an Illyrian soldier

"I've been called worse. In fact, I think you've called me worse," I said, still chuckling.

I pointed to a the sentence I had written—unable to resist getting under her skin as she so often got under mine. "Read that."

She squinted at the print. "I can't."

"Try."

Hesitating, she said, "What, exactly, is your stake in all this? You said you'd tell me if I worked with you."

"I didn't specify when I'd tell you...maybe I resent the idea of you letting those sycophants and war-mongering fools in the Spring Court make you feel inadequate. Maybe I indeed enjoy seeing you squirm. Or maybe—"

"I get it."

I snorted. "Try to read it, Feyre."

 _Prick._

She snatched the paper towards her, nearly ripping it in half in the process and furrowed her brow in concentration. "Y-you … Look … "

"Good," I murmured, pleased that she was proving to be a much faster learner than Cassian had been.

"I didn't ask for your approval."

I chuckled. Then she would most definitely enjoy the sentence I wrote to her.

"Ab … Absolutely..De … Del … "

She glanced at me, brows raised.

"Delicious," I purred, anticipating her exasperation.

She squinted again, creating a little crease between her brows that my hands were itching to smooth away. The urge surprised me. I wasn't the unfeeling Male I often pretended to be, but my parents—or what I remembered of them—had never been physically affectionate with each other. I suspected it was more my father than my mother. My mother was a loving, colorful female while my father…

Feyre read the next two words, pulling me out of my reverie, then whipped her face toward me.

"You look absolutely delicious today, Feyre?! That's what you wrote?"

I felt for her mind. It seemed easier to slip through the unprotected borders of her consciousness—as if her mind was subconsciously welcoming me.

 _it's true, isn't it?_

She jolted back, her chair groaning. "Stop that!"

I dug my talons in further—latching on to her very being.

 _The fashion of the Night Court suits you._

"This is what happens when you leave your mental shields down. Someone with my sort of powers could slip inside, see what they want, and take your mind for themselves."

The thought of it terrified me. Suddenly needing her to know how serious it was, I continued.

"Or they could shatter it. I'm currently standing on the threshold of your mind … but if I were to go deeper, all it would take would be half a thought from me and who you are, your very self, would be wiped away".

I pushed away a shudder as the memories of the many fae minds I had shattered for Amarantha threatened to resurface.

I could scent the fear rolling off of her.

Good.

"You should be afraid," I told her gravely. "You should be afraid of this, and you should be thanking the gods-damned Cauldron that in the past three months, no one with my sorts of gifts has run into you. Now shove me out."

I felt her mind cautiously graze the talons. I pushed a little harder.

 _Shove. Me. Out._

I felt her feeble attempt to slam herself into me, into those claws I had hooked in everywhere.

I laughed softly, still in her consciousness, and lit a path inside her mind to lead her out.

 _That way Feyre._

I felt her hesitate for a moment. When I was almost sure she had given up trying, a wave of her conscious crashed against me. Not hard enough to truly remove me but—I loosened the claws reluctantly. "Good."

She slumped in her seat, understandably exhausted, but I wasn't done with her yet.

"Shield. Block me out so I can't get back in."

Sensing her fatigue, I stroked the outer layer of her mind.

A wall of shimmering black adamant snapped down, black as night and a foot thick, slicing my talons in two.

I grinned. If there was any doubt we were mates before…

"Very nice. Blunt, but nice."

"You're a pig," she snarled, ripping the paper in two.

"Oh, most definitely. But look at you—you read that whole sentence, kicked me out of your mind, and shielded. Excellent work."

"Don't condescend to me."

"I'm not. You're reading at a level far higher than I anticipated," I told her truthfully.

She blushed furiously. "But mostly illiterate."

I wished I could tell her what I was thinking—that she had learned to hunt, to trap, to swim all on her own as a young child with nothing—that she of all people had nothing to be embarrassed about— but I couldn't. Not until I knew she wouldn't use the truth of my nature against me and my court. She was my mate, but she still shared a bed with my rival.

"At this point, it's about practice, spelling, and more practice. You could be reading novels by Nynsar. And if you keep adding to those shields, you might very well keep me out entirely by then, too."

"Is it even possible—to truly keep you out?"

"Not likely, but who knows how deep that power goes? Keep practicing and we'll see what happens." I had a feeling that as my equal, she could do the impossible.

"And will I still be bound by this bargain at Nynsar, too?"

Silence.

She went on. "After—after what happened—I think we can agree that I owe you nothing, and you owe me nothing."

"I'm not your enemy Feyre" I replied, frustration flaring up again.

"Everyone else says you are."

Of course they did. I wanted them to—let them all hate me if it kept my loved ones safe.

"And what do you think?" I prodded, leaning back in my chair.

"You're doing a damned good job of making me agree with them."

"Liar," I purred. She'd forgotten that I had been in her mind. I had seen her reluctant draw to me—my actions at her last trial conflicted with that mask of coldness and it confused her. Her subconscious was aware of our bond, even if she wasn't.

"Did you even tell your friends about what I _did to you_ Under the Mountain?"

"I don't want to talk about anything related to that. With you or them."

"No, because it's so much easier to pretend it never happened and let them coddle you," I said, the anger from this morning resurfacing.

"I don't let them coddle me—"

"They had you wrapped up like a present yesterday. Like you were his reward."

"So?"

"So?" A flicker of rage before I buried it under ice.

"I'm ready to be taken home," she merely said.

"Where you'll be cloistered for the rest of your life, especially once you start punching out heirs. I can't wait to see what Ianthe does when she gets her hands on them."

"You don't seem to have a particularly high opinion of her."

I fought a snarl. "No, I can't say that I do." He pointed to a blank piece of paper. "Start copying the alphabet. Until your letters are perfect. And every time you get through a round, lower and raise your shield. Until that is second nature. I'll be back in an hour."

"What?"

"Copy. The. Alphabet. Until—"

"I heard what you said."

 _Prick. Prick, prick, prick._

"Then get to work." I stood, unsure whether to laugh at or call out her curses. Lingering anger had me chose the second.

"And at least have the decency to only call me a prick when your shields are back up."

I vanished into darkness before she could reply.


	9. Chapter 9

**PLEASE review. Thanks!**

I winnowed into the House, answering my cousin's summon.

"What's this I hear about you wanting to fly to hybern yourself to scope out their military?" she demanded by way of greeting.

"It's nothing. Nothing any of you need to worry about," I told her, a headache already starting to form between my temples.

"Azriel would want to know that," Mor said, an emotion I didn't want to acknowledge glittering in her eyes..

"Azriel can go to hell," I sniped, frustrated. "He likely already knows, anyway."

I heard footsteps approaching from down the hall, but—with effort—managed to keep my eyes on my Third.

"We played games the last time," Mor said, solemnly "and we lost. Badly. We're not going to do that again."

"You should be working," I told her. They'd never understand. They want to protect him, but if any of them got hurt from something he could have stopped...it would kill him more painfully than any monster could. "I gave you control for a reason, you know."

Mor's jaw tightened, and she at last faced Feyre where she stood, watching us curiously.

"Say what it is you came here to say, Mor," I said even more tense because of my mate's presence.

Mor rolled her eyes, but her face turned solemn as she said, "There was another attack—at a temple in Cesere. Almost every priestess slain, the trove looted."

I halted. Utter rage coursing through my veins and paralyzing my muscles. "Who."

"We don't know," Mor said. "Same tracks as last time: small group, bodies that showed signs of wounds from large blades, and no trace of where they came from and how they disappeared. No survivors. The bodies weren't even found until a day later, when a group of pilgrims came by."

Feyre made a small, strained noise, but the rage was so consuming I barely noticed.

I felt my wings spring from my back, responding to the adrenalin in my system—steadying me. "What did Azriel have to say about it?"

Mor glanced at Feyre. I hadn't spoken to her about keeping things from my mate so she continued hesitantly.

"He's pissed. Cassian even more so—he's convinced it must be one of the rogue Illyrian war-bands, intent on winning new territory."

"It's something to consider," I mused, remembering the brutal, one-track selfishness of the Illyrian leaders from my own days in the camps. "Some of the Illyrian clans gleefully bowed to Amarantha during those years. Trying to expand their borders could be their way of seeing how far they can push me and get away with it."

"Cassian and Az are waiting—" Mor cut herself off, giving Feyre an apologetic wince. "They're waiting in the usual spot for your orders."

Once again that feeling of _wrongness_ at keeping anything from my mate—the thought that she might harm me with the information—was almost nauseating.

To ease my rolling stomach I took a deep breath, tasting fresh jasmine from the mountains and the sweet aromas brought in by different currents. The wind was especially potent today. I studied the open air again, the howling wind that shoved dark, roiling clouds over the distant peaks—suddenly desperate to taste the skies, to forget about Hybern and Priests and _her_ for just a little while.

"Winnowing in would be easier," Mor said, following my gaze.

"Tell the pricks I'll be there in a few hours," I said.

Mor gave Feyre a wary grin, and vanished.

"How does that … vanishing work?" she said softly, her sweet voice filling the silence.

I couldn't look at her, but I would always give her what she wanted—and the technical explanation would be a welcome distraction.

"Winnowing? Think of it as … two different points on a piece of cloth. One point is your current place in the world. The other one across the cloth is where you want to go. Winnowing … it's like folding that cloth so the two spots align. The magic does the folding—and all we do is take a step to get from one place to another. Sometimes it's a long step, and you can feel the dark fabric of the world as you pass through it. A shorter step, let's say from one end of the room to the other, would barely register. It's a rare gift, and a helpful one. Though only the stronger Fae can do it. The more powerful you are, the farther you can jump between places in one go."

"I'm sorry about the temple—and the priestesses."

Her words flamed the simmering wrath. "Plenty more people are going to die soon enough, anyway."

"What are … ," she hesitated. "What are Illyrian war-bands?"

"Arrogant bastards, that's what," I muttered.

she crossed her arms, waiting. Her impatient expression almost made me want to smile

I stretched my wings, feeling the sun's rays rippling off the folds."They're a warrior-race within my lands. And general pains in my ass."

"Some of them supported Amarantha?"

"Some. But me and mine have enjoyed ourselves hunting them down these past few months. And ending them."

"That's why you stayed away—you were busy with that?"

"I was busy with many things." I thought of how irritated Az would be when he confronted me about my trip to Hybern and winced internally.

After an eventful day of being scolded (how Az manages to respectfully scold I will never know), and hunting down Illyrian war-bands to question them about the temple massacre, I returned to the House to take Feyre back to her beloved High Lord.

I embraced the pain I felt at her relief as I winnowed us to the Spring Court. Embraced the loneliness I felt winnowing away from her before she could spit on me in hatred. Embraced the terror I felt letting go of her hand and allowing her to run away from me—towards a place where I couldn't protect her.

 _Tamlin will protect her. He would never hurt her._ I chanted, attempting to reassure myself that my terror was unnecessary. I knew that he loved her, so why was that fear not fading?

I got my answer about 2 weeks later as I sat in an important meeting with some assholes from the Hewn city. I had slipped my mask into place, exuding coldness and superiority. Becoming the High Lord that I hated.

I was in the middle of a ruthless reprimand—my anger and disgust only half faked—when a wave of terror crashed through the bond.

I froze mid sentence, flashes of broken windows and splintered furniture flashing through my mind. I barely noticed Mor and the three High fae staring at me before I winnowed straight to the House of Wind. The moment my feet touched the marble floors, a second stream of consciousness invaded my mind.

 _Tamlin was panting, the ragged breaths almost like sobs._

 _I was shaking—shaking so hard I thought my bones would splinter as the furniture had—but I made myself lower my arms and look at him._

 _There was devastation on that face. And pain. And fear. And grief._

 _Tamlin took a step toward me, over that invisible demarcation._

 _He recoiled as if he'd hit something solid._

" _Feyre," he rasped._

 _He stepped again—and that line held._

" _Feyre, please," he breathed._

 _And I realized that the line, that bubble of protection …_

 _It was from me._

" _Feyre," Tamlin groaned a third time, pushing a hand against what indeed looked like an invisible, curved wall of hardened air. "Please. Please."_

 _Those words cracked something in me. Cracked me open._

 _Then he stepped over that line, dropping to his knees, taking my face in his hands. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry."_

" _I'll try," he breathed. "I'll try to be better. I don't … I can't control it sometimes. The rage. Today was just … today was bad. With the Tithe, with all of it. Today—let's forget it, let's just move past it. Please."_

I blinked the thoughts and images away, blind fury more potent than I had ever experienced overcame me. _My mate...he'd almost hurt her...he'd unleashed his power NEAR HER out of anger as she confessed the feelings that were eating her up inside._

I was going to erupt into flames from the rage. Fuck the consequences. I prepared myself to winnow but was stopped by another slew of thoughts and images.

 _I should have told him it wasn't true, but … I had spoken with my heart. Or what was left of it._

" _I'll try to be better," he said again. "Please—give me more time. Let me … let me get through this. Please."_

 _Get through what? I wanted to ask. But words had abandoned me. I realized I hadn't spoken yet._

 _Realized he was waiting for an answer—and that I didn't have one._

 _So I put my arms around him, because body to body was the only way I could speak, too._

 _It was answer enough. "I'm sorry," he said again. He didn't stop murmuring it for minutes._

 _You've given enough, Feyre._

 _Perhaps he was right. And perhaps I didn't have anything left to give, anyway._

No. No. No. The terror intensified. Not only was she in physical danger but her soul...her spirit. He was crushing it—suffocating it—suffocating her. She was giving up. The female I knew wouldn't have stood for such mistreatment.

I fought the urge to run to her rescue. Feyre was my mate, and I would respect what she wanted no matter what I felt….and this broken, dying Feyre still wanted Tamlin.


	10. Chapter 10

The air above Hybern was cold and dry—the wind cutting into my face felt like knives. Slipping out of the town house in the morning before Az or Cassian could try to stop me, I flew south-west for hours, soaring above the clouds.

I had been having trouble sleeping lately _._ Nightmares of Amarantha torturing Mor….forcing Cassian...killing Feyre—my body had trouble shutting off knowing that's when the anxiety got the best of me night after night. The only thing that could calm the fears I had— my loved ones being harmed—was to go out and do all I could to protect them. Since stealing Feyre away from the Spring Court wasn't an option, I opted to snoop in Hybern. If I couldn't protect her, I would work protect her family beyond the wall. I would not let the years Feyre spent braving the cold and hunting for their survival be a waste.

When I reached the borders I flew—not to the King's palace—but to the home of one of his advisors. The king's mind would be protected—as would his advisors—but I could get through his advisor's shields without threat of detection.

As I approached the location, I looked through the window and saw a tall, male sitting at a desk. I studied him for a moment, before deciding to slip inside the house.

Before he could yell at my sudden presence, I froze him with a wave of my hand. As was routine, I rearranged my features into the mask of coldness.

Quieting the long buried part of me that felt shame at committing the violation, I leaned against the mahogany desk and dug my way into the advisor's mind. Entering the outskirts of his mind, I felt a wall of cement protecting his thoughts.

With a sigh and half a thought, I cracked the wall in half and entered his consciousness. I felt him push at me feebly and silenced him. I could just cause him pain—force him to tell me right away…. But there were lines I wouldn't cross.

 _You already crossed those lines, whore_

I push the thought away. There were lines I wouldn't cross when I had the choice...and thanks to Feyre I would never have to give up my choice again.

Instead, I opted to shuffle through his memories and find what I wanted myself, however painstakingly long it took.

I flipped through memories of childhood, then war, then—I snarled. This male had a certain penchant for violence...especially where unwilling females were concerned.

Thinking of Mor, it was an effort not to forget my search and crush his mind right then and there.

With _effort_ , I returned to searching through the sick male's mind—ah there. I skimmed through the memory of a conversation with the King's general until a name came up that made my blood run cold.

 _Jurian_

I continued my search...but the king had been careful...this advisor had only heard what he needed to hear: they were going to resurrect Jurian. Not how or when.

I glanced again at the Male frozen before me. I had see a lot in my many years, but his memories had made even me wince. Murderous thoughts floated through my head _._

I had almost decided to act on them until I thought of _her_ … sleeping with her High Lord who called me whore and murderer.

 _That's what you are_

I shook my head. Whore I may be, but if the line between my mask and my true self started to blur… i'd never deserve someone like Feyre...if I even deserved her as I was now—with all I had done.

Even the thought of my mate hadn't been enough to stop me from breaking a few fingers before erasing his memories and slipping out the way I came.

The scream of pain I heard as I soared away high in the clouds was almost enough to forgive myself for it.

Almost enough.

I had updated Armen on what I learned at Hybern—she was the least likely to murder me for sneaking out—and a day later we sat planning.

Or trying to plan. I had been distracted all day...it had officially been a month since I left her in the hands of that bastard. The flashes of her reflection in the mirror that slipped through the bonds had haunted me for days. Her eyes were sunken and her hair was dull...she looked like she was dying...

"Rhysand," Armen snapped, pulling me out of my own despair.

I looked up at my second, wordlessly

"Go get her, Rhysand," she said, looking at me pointedly. "Stop moping about and go the retrieve the girl already".

"So crabby. Tore through your supply of blood already, Armen?" I asked, taunting her half-heartedly.

Ignoring my jab, she continued to stare at me— _through_ me. Those strange silver eyes I thought i'd never see again... were set on me in full force.

"Armen I can't just—"

"Is she happy there, right now?" she interrupted me, one of the few people who dared do so.

Feyre happened to be one of those few...

"'Oh no you don't" she said, seeing the direction my thoughts were headed in my eyes. "You get off your ass and go get her before I—

"Alright, alright" I told her, snarling in annoyance. Keeping the image of Feyre's wan, colorless face in my mind, I winnowed to the Spring Court to fetch my mate.

"Get out," Tamlin warned.

It was an effort to keep my anger in check, remembering that day in the study.

"Give it a rest, Tamlin, and go fetch Feyre darling for me"

"I'll say it one last time—"

I was about to reply with a retort I knew would make his blood boil, when I heard the door open slowly.

I turned to look at her, pain lancing through my soul at her haggard appearance.

 _She looked even worse than she did through the bond._

"Feyre." my eyes lingered, taking in every detail. "Are you running low on food here?"

"What?" Tamlin demanded.

As if he hadn't noticed—the coward.

I extended a hand toward her—desperate to get her out of here. "Let's go."

Tamlin was in my face in an instant.

"Get out." He pointed toward the staircase. "She'll come to you when she's ready."

Easy to confront _me_ about her well-being, but confronting her...now _that_ he was too scared to do.

I brushed an invisible fleck of dust off Tamlin's sleeve before I heard a thought from Feyre float through the bond.

 _Part of me admired the sheer nerve it must have taken. Had Tamlin's teeth been inches from my throat, I would have bleated in panic._

I cut a glance at her. She was twice as brave as her coward High Lord.

"No, you wouldn't have. As far as your memory serves me, the last time Tamlin's teeth were near your throat, you slapped him across the face." I felt her snap up her forgotten shields, scowling.

"Shut your mouth," Tamlin said, stepping further between us. "And get out."

"You really should have your wards inspected. Cauldron knows what other sort of riffraff might stroll in here as easily as I did." If Tamlin let anything get to her in here….

I assessed her again. Her eyes looked dead. It's not that I doubted her ability to take care of herself physically… but her despair was making her body weak right now. "Put some clothes on."

She bared her teeth at me and stepped back into the room. Tamlin followed after her, slamming the door hard enough that the chandeliers shuddered, sending shards of light shivering over the walls.

She came out wearing the turquoise Night clothes I had left her in last time. However they looked considerably looser than they had been a month ago...

I frowned at her. I could see her gearing up to shout something profane and purely _Feyre_ at me—but she stopped. Her expression became cold again and the flame that had been building in her eyes sputtered out.

My heart went cold. This woman...this woman was a ghost of my mate...I had to get her out of here.

I extended the ghost my hand.

Tamlin stepped behind her and shoved my hand down. I fought a snarl.

"You end her bargain right here, right now, and I'll give you anything you want. Anything."

"Are you out of your mind?" she told Tamlin, without any of her usual pluck.

Tamlin didn't so much as blink in her direction.

"I already have everything I want," I told him coolly.

I stepped around Tamlin and took her cold, bony hand. Summoning a black wind, I gathered us up and winnowed us away.


	11. Chapter 11

"What the hell happened to you?" I said, unable to contain myself for any longer. If she has changed so much in only a month she must not have been eating _anything._

"Why don't you just look inside my head?" she said quietly.

That was the scariest change of all...her fire...it was gone. Her words had no bite at all.

I gave her a wink, desperate to rekindle the dead flame in her eyes. "Where's the fun in that?"

She didn't smile.

"No shoe throwing this time?"

 _Come on...Please play with me,_ I pleaded silently.

Without a word, she headed for the stairs that would take her to her room.

I could feel her slipping out of my fingers. Terrified, I grasped for an excuse to keep her with me.

"Eat breakfast with me," I said.

"Don't you have other things to deal with?"

"Of course I do," I said, brushing aside the thought of the ridiculous amount of meetings I had this week. It _was_ consuming sometimes. I was raised a fighter—not a leader, and that unused power, that lust for battle simmered and raged under my skin as I sat in meetings with assholes I would have loved to just kill and be done with. But for my People I refrained. Always for them.

"I have so many things to deal with that I'm sometimes tempted to unleash my power across the world and wipe the board clean. Just to buy me some damned peace." I grinned, unable to resist showing off a little."But I'll always make time for you."

Thankfully, she motioned me to lead the way to that familiar glass table at the end of the hall. If she hadn't eaten soon I don't think I would have been able to stop myself from forcing her—and then i'd be no better than her coward back in Spring.

That reminded me. "I felt a spike of fear this month through our lovely bond. Anything exciting happen at the wondrous Spring Court?," I prodded.

Though I would love to think my prodding was out of selflessness—to see if she was ok—I knew it was not. Of course she was not ok. In my heart I knew I was a selfish bastard who wanted to remind her of the faults of my rival.

"It was nothing," she said, monotonically.

NOTHING? He's got her so wrapped around his little finger that she calls him blasting her out of anger NOTHING?

"If you know," she said coldly, seeing the rage in my eyes "why even ask about it?"

"Because these days, all I hear through that bond is nothing. Silence. Even with your shields up rather impressively most of the time, I should be able to feel you. And yet I don't. Sometimes I'll tug on the bond only to make sure you're still alive".

It was an effort to keep the terror out of my voice. If she heard how truly helpless it made me feel surely she'd guess what she meant to me…

I continued, ranting now. Rage was more understandable than agony.

"And then one day, I'm in the middle of an important meeting when terror blasts through the bond. All I get are glimpses of you and him—and then nothing. Back to silence. I'd like to know what caused such a disruption."

She served herself from the platters of food.

"It was an argument, and the rest is none of your concern."

Those words— _none of your concern_ —only added salt to the ever-growing wound in my heart.

"Is it why you look like your grief and guilt and rage are eating you alive, bit by bit?"

"Get out of my head," she said, barely raising her voice.

"Make me. Push me out. You dropped your shield this morning—anyone could have walked right in."

She started to hold his stare, and I held my breath—hoping.

Until she glanced down again in apathy and asked "Where's Mor?"

My entire body tenses. All of my instincts wanted me to provoke her, to push her until she said what I wanted and acted how i wanted.

"Away. She has duties to attend to." I told her instead. "Is the wedding on hold, then?"

She paused eating barely long enough to mumble, "Yes."

"I expected an answer more along the lines of, 'Don't ask stupid questions you already know the answer to,' or my timeless favorite, 'Go to hell.' "

I had to ask, "Did you give my offer any thought?"

After a long while she said, "I'm not going to work with you".

A dark calm settled over me. "And why, Feyre, are you refusing me?"

She pushed around the fruit on her plate. "I'm not going to be a part of this war you think is coming. You say I should be a weapon, not a pawn—they seem like the same to me. The only difference is who's wielding it."

"I want your help, not to manipulate you," I snapped. It seemed that being compared, even subtly, to that simpering High Lord was becoming a sore spot for me.

My flare of temper made her at last lift her head. "You want my help because it'll piss off Tamlin."

Of course she'd think that. Of course.

"Fine," I breathed. "I dug that grave myself, with all I did Under the Mountain. But I need your help."

 _Ask me why; push me about it Feyre_ , I said with my eyes.

When I could see that she would not, I continued quietly. "I was a prisoner in her court for nearly fifty years. I was tortured and beaten and fucked until only telling myself who I was, what I had to protect, kept me from trying to find a way to end it. Please—help me keep that from happening again. To Prythian.".

I had laid it all bare, but she simply went back to eating.

Unable to look at her any longer I winnowed away.

She didn't join me for dinner.

She slept well past breakfast

But I made sure to be there when I emerged at noon. She wouldn't get rid of me that easily. I nudged her toward the table i'd arranged with books and paper and ink.

"Copy these sentences," I said, handing her a piece of paper.

She looked at them for a moment before reading them perfectly:

"Rhysand is a spectacular person. Rhysand is the center of my world. Rhysand is the best lover a female can ever dream of." She set down the paper, wrote out the three sentences, and handed it to me.

She'd been practicing her reading, but how about her shield?

My claws slammed into her mind a moment later.

And bounced harmlessly off a black, glimmering shield of adamant.

I blinked. "You practiced."

She rose from the table and walked away. "I had nothing better to do."

I remembered the rare days locked away Under the Mountain when Amarantha had no one for me to torture and no time to force me to pleasure her. The only thing that kept me sane as I waited there in my room for her to eventually make her way to it when she _did_ find the time, was reading. Books had taken me out of that hell hole for just a little while, and every page helped. I figured maybe Feyre could use that escape right now too.

I sent a collection of my favorite books down to her room with a note telling her how to reach me if she wanted to.

Days passed—and she didn't.

I returned at the end of a particularly shitty week. I had to make a visit to the Hewn City and barely got to go home to Velaris at all. When I did it was to discuss Hybern and the Wall, which put everyone in a bad mood.

When I returned, I saw that Feyre had taken to situating herself in one of the little lounges overlooking the mountains. I glanced at the book in her hand—an all-time favorite of mine- and started when I saw she had almost finished it in one week.

Impressed,but still worried, I slid between two of the oversized armchairs, with twin plates of food in my hands, and set them on the low-lying table before her. "Since you seem hell-bent on a sedentary lifestyle," I said, "I thought I'd go one step further and bring your food to you."

"Thank you," she told me flatly.

A short laugh to hide how much her dead tone devastated me.

"Thank you? Not 'High lord and servant?' Or: 'Whatever it is you want, you can go shove it up your ass, Rhysand.'?" I clicked my tongue. "How disappointing."

She set down the book and extended a hand for the plate, apathy still plainly on her face.

 _No. I can't take that look anymore._

I pulled the plate towards me with magic before she could grab it.

 _No._

She reached again. Once more, a tendril of my power yanked the plate further back.

"Tell me what to do," I pleaded. "Tell me what to do to help you."

Keeping that plate out of reach, I spoke again, feeling the talons of smoke curl over my fingers and great wings of shadow spread from my back.

"Months and months, and you're still a ghost. Does no one there ask what the hell is happening? Does your High Lord simply not care?".

"He's giving me space to sort it out," she said, with at least some of that familiar bite in her words Thank the Cauldron.

"Let me help you," I said. "We went through enough Under the Mountain—"

She flinched.

"She wins," I breathed. "That bitch wins if you let yourself fall apart."

I had been chanting those words to myself incessantly every time I woke from a nightmare sweating and screaming. But they applied just as well to her.

At my words she merely lifted the book and two words shot into my mind through the bond _Conversation over._

"Like hell it is," I snarled. I shut the book with half a thought.

 _Bastard. Arrogant, presuming bastard_ , she thought hotly.

Slowly, she lifted my eyes to me. And I saw … not hot temper—but icy, glittering rage.

Frost started to slowly coating the book in her hands before she hurled it at my head.

I shielded fast enough that it bounced away and slid across the marble floor behind us.

GOOD. good. Finally.

"Good," I told her aloud, my breathing a bit uneven. "What else do you have, Feyre?"

The ice melted to flame, and her fingers curled into fists.

Relief flooded through me at the sight. A feeling, for once. Not like that hollow cold and silence.

She had not put her shield back up so I heard the moment her thoughts turned south.

 _The thought of returning to that manor with the sentries and the patrols and the secrets … I sank back into my chair. Frozen once more._

"Any time you need someone to play with," I said, pushing the plate toward her on a star-flecked wind, "whether it's during our marvelous week together or otherwise, you let me know."

She didn't look up at me again as she devoured the food.


	12. Chapter 12

It had been only a few weeks since i'd returned Feyre to her springtime cage, and yet every cell in my body was aching in her absence. Her mind had been quiet. I prayed this was because she kept her shields up rather than because of her diminishing mental state.

I was in the middle of sparring with Mor when I heard it. Screaming- Feyre's screaming- filled my mind. Mor stopped her arm mid punch and stared as the blood drained from my face and I was paralyzed by fear.

"Rhys? Rhys what's wrong? Is it Feyre?" Mor asked, shaking my shoulders in horror.

The sound of her name cleared my head, and I searched through her mind to see what had happened.

"Tamlin locked her in his manor," I growled.

Mor's fangs flashed in anger.

I leapt to my feet to winnow to the Spring Court when Mor clamped an iron grip on my shoulder.

"You can't go Rhys, you know the law. You go and you start a war that no one needs right now," she says softly, anticipating my fury.

"DAMN THE LAW," I roar, pushing my third out of the way. "You don't understand. This will break her...she can't be imprisoned again it will break her soul. Please," I begged.

"I'll go, Rhys. I will go right now and I will get her out of that fucking Court, but you must stay here"

I had never hated the limitations of this forsaken position more, but I trusted my cousin.

"Go," was all I told her, as I annihilated the shield that bastard held around my love.

With a nod, she disappeared.

After thirty minutes of pacing back and forth along the border of my territory, Mor appeared looking as angry as I felt. Both relief and a fresh wave of anger flooded through me as I beheld a thrashing, screaming Feyre In her arms.

I growled viciously, unable to contain myself.

"I did everything by the book," Mor said, placing Feyre into my outstretched arms.

"Then we're done here," I seethed, winnowing home as unconsciousness took hold of her.

I set her down gently on the couch in the living room, unable to keep my eyes off her face. She looked so young in her sleep, almost like the child she should have been before Prythian destroyed her simple mortal life.

I fell into the armchair across from her, exhausted, but never once taking my eyes off the shell of a woman asleep before me.

I sat there for hours as she slept, unable to calm the anger I felt towards the High Lord that had tried to cage her.

I was glaring at the Mountains, fantasizing about skinning Tamlin alive, when I heard her breathing change as she awoke.

I looked towards her, relieved that she was alright.

"What happened?" she croaked. Her shields were down, and her thoughts floated to me. _My voice is hoarse. Like i'd been screaming._

"You were screaming," I answered aloud. "You also managed to scare the shit out of every servant and sentry in Tamlin's manor when you wrapped yourself in darkness and they couldn't see you."

She gulped. "Did I hurt any—"

"No. Whatever you did, it was contained to you," I replied.

"You weren't—"

"By law and protocol," I said, stretching out my stiff limbs, "things would have become very complicated and very messy if I had been the one to walk into that house and take you. Smashing that shield was fine, but Mor had to go in on her own two feet, render the sentries unconscious through her own power, and carry you over the border to another court before I could bring you here. Or else Tamlin would have free rein to march his forces into my lands to reclaim you. And as I have no interest in an internal war, we had to do everything by the book."

"When I go back …"

The thought of her going back made my head pound, but I said

"As your presence here isn't part of our monthly requirement, you are under no obligation to go back. Unless you wish to."

I wondered if she could see how desperate I was for her to stay.

"He locked me in that house," she managed to say.

I spread my wings out behind my chair and stared, "I know. I felt you. Even with your shields up—for once."

She met my stare. "I have nowhere else to go."

It was both a question and a plea.

Attempting nonchalance, I replied casually. "Stay here for however long you want. Stay here forever, if you feel like it."

"I—I need to go back at some point."

"Say the word, and it's done."

I meant it, too. I would never trap her here.

"I made you an offer when you first came here: help me, and food, shelter, clothing … All of it is yours."

I thought of our shared aversion to handouts and adjusted my words.

"Work for me," I added. "I owe you, anyway. And we'll figure out the rest day by day, if need be."

She seemed to contemplate this, before declaring "i'm not going back".

The words sparked a flicker of hope in me.

"Not—not until I figure things out." She added, shivering against the cold air.

I summoned a mug of hot tea and handed it to her. "Drink it."

"Rest a day or two, Feyre," I told her. "Then take on the task of figuring out everything else. I have business in another part of my lands; I'll be back by the end of the week."

I turned to go, fighting the instinct to take her with me to keep an eye on her and show her my beloved city. She needed rest.

"Take me with you."

I halted at her words as I pushed through two purple gossamer curtains. And slowly, I turned back. "You should rest."

"I've rested enough," she said, setting down the empty mug and standing. "Wherever you're going, whatever you're doing—take me along. I'll stay out of trouble. Just … Please."

I could hear the desperation in her voice that she fought to hide.

For a long moment, I said nothing, knowing that she could destroy everything I fought to protect if I took her with me. I wanted her with me, though. Wanted her to see the only part of my soul worth seeing.

"If you come with me, there is no going back. You will not be allowed to speak of what you see to anyone outside of my court. Because if you do, people will die—my people will die. So if you come, you will have to lie about it forever; if you return to the Spring Court, you cannot tell anyone there what you see, and who you meet, and what you will witness. If you would rather not have that between you and—your friends, then stay here."

"Take me with you," she breathed after a moment. "I won't tell anyone what I see. Even—them."

The fact that she wanted to be with me made me smile.

"We leave in ten minutes. If you want to freshen up, go ahead."

"Where are we going?"

My smile widened into a grin. "To Velaris—the City of Starlight."


End file.
